Anastasia From a Certain Point of View
by Iscreamer1
Summary: The story of Anastasia told from the perspectives of Anya and her grandmother from official sources. Made to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the film.
1. Marie's Tale

A night to remember…

We all said it would be a night to remember.

And it was.

But not as we had dreamed. No one could have imagined the events that would befall us.

I am the Dowager Empress Marie of Russia. And it was the worst night of my long life.

But let me start at the beginning.

There was a time, not very long ago, when we lived in an enchanted world of elegant palaces and grand parties.

The year was 1916. My son Nicholas was the Czar of Imperial Russia. He and his wife had four beautiful daughters and a handsome young son.

Nicholas was a good man. But some have said he did not rule wisely. Some have said he was blind to the poverty and hunger that tore at his people.

I do not know I only know that he was a good soon and a loving father.

The stars shone brightly that night as my carriage raced through the darkness. The horses' hooves clattered on the cobblestone streets. The light from the palace lit up the night as the gates swung open for my carriage. I joined the guests, who were dressed in their finest suits and gowns.

We were celebrating a special anniversary. Three hundred years of Romanov rule. And that night, so star burned brighter than my youngest granddaughter, our sweet Anastasia.

All eyes were on her as she danced with her father, the Czar. Her long red curls shone in the light from the chandelier. She was only eight, but she danced with spirit and grace.

When the dance ended, she curtsied to her father. Then she saw me. Laughing, she ran into my arms.

Why were the two of us so close? I do not know. Perhaps she reminded me of myself at her age. We were the best of friends.

But I was leaving. She had begged me not to return to my home in Paris. So I had made a very special gift made for her. I hoped it would make the separation easier for us to say good-bye.

Smiling, I pulled the gift from my bag.

"For me?" Anastasia said as she reached for the tiny box. "Is it a jewelry box?"

I shook my head. "Look."

I held up a key: a small flower on a gold neck chain. I showed her how to fit it into the tiny hole at the back of the box. Then I wound it.

A haunting melody played.

Anastasia clapped her hands. "It plays out lullaby!"

"You can play it at night before you go to sleep," I told her. "You can pretend I am singing to you."

And then I sang to her the words that would haunt me for years to come:

" _On the wind, 'cross the sea,_

 _Hear this song and remember,_

 _Soon you'll be home with me_

 _Once upon a December…"_

I handed Anastasia the key. "Read what it says."

Anastasia peered at the tiny letters engraved on the key. "Together in Paris," she read. Then she looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes. "Really?"

I smiled and nodded.

"Oh, Grandmama!" She threw her sweet young arms around my neck. We hugged as if we would never let go.

Suddenly a startled gasp rose from the crowd. The orchestra stopped playing. The laughter died. Anastasia and I spun around.

The crowd parted like dry leaves before a wind.

A man swept toward us—an uninvited guest. He was tall and thin, dressed in long black robes. His gleaming black moustache and beard hung below his waist.

Someone in the crowd stifled a cry as a small white bat swooped above our heads and landed on the man's shoulder.

Slowly the man made his to the Czar. His hypnotic eyes blazed with anger beneath thick black brows.

Nicholas met his gaze, unafraid.

"You think you can banish the Great Rasputin?" the man cried. His lips curled into a sneer. "By the unholy powers vested in me, I banish you! Mark my words: you and your family will die within the fortnight."

Anastasia clung to me as Rasputin's curse echoed through the great ballroom: "I will not rest until I see the end of the Romanov line…forever!"

Then I noticed a strange object hanging from a chain around Rasputin's waist. Looking closer, I saw that it was a reliquary—a fancy glass vial about eight inches tall. Its contents glowed like devil's fire.

Eyes crazed, Rasputin raised the reliquary and muttered a few words. A bolt of lightning shot into the chandelier, and it crashed to the floor. Guests scattered as the ballroom plunged into darkness.

The servants rushed to light the candles around the room.

Anastasia and I trembled in each other's arms until the soft glow of candlelight filled the room. I looked around.

Rasputin had vanished.

No one danced another step that night. Rasputin had stolen our joy.

That night as I got ready for bed, I heard an angry crowd of demonstrators outside the palace gates.

"Death to the Czar!" they shouted. "Let the people rule!"

A brick shattered an elegant palace window.

 _Rasputin,_ I thought. Some said he practiced black magic. Some said he was the devil himself. Did he have a hand in the terror of those events? I never knew for sure.

I only know that the spark of unhappiness in our country was fanned into flames—flames that would destroy our lives forever.

Later that night I awoke to a loud knocking. I flung back my satin coves and hurried to my bedroom door.

A servant had come to warn me: revolutionaries had broken through the gates. They had toppled a statue of the Czar. Now they were trying to break into the palace. They meant to kill the royal family.

The next thing I knew, we were all running down a darkened hallway. There was no time to even dress. I clutched the hand of the sleepy Anastasia as we ran. But suddenly she stopped, pulling her hand free.

"My music box!" she cried. She turned back to get it.

I tried to stop her. But she was so like her father—as stubborn as a black bear. As I ran after her, I wished to heaven that I had never given her the tiny music box. For now she was risking her life for it.

"Anastasia!" I begged. "Anastasia, come back!"

But she would not listen.

At last I found her in the room she, hugging the music box to her chest. Before I could speak, shots rang out—inside the palace!

I whispered a prayer as I reached for my granddaughter's hand.

Suddenly a secret panel in the wall slid open. Out stepped a young servant boy.

The castle was full of secret passageways. Nicholas himself had played hide-and-seek in them as a child.

Now my granddaughter and I ran to hide in them, but this time it was not a game. We were running for our lives.

"This way!" the boy urged us.

My old bones creaked as I ducked through the doorway. "Hurry, Anastasia!" I scolded. Fear made my voice harsher than I meant it to be.

Then the boy thrust Anastasia in behind me. I forgave his rudeness in shoving the Princess given the danger we were in. But in his haste he caused her to drop the music box.

Her hand shot out to grab it—just as Bartok, Rasputin's white bat, swooped into the room and saw us.

"Rasputin, they're getting away!" the creature shrieked as it flew off to find its master.

That's when I realized we were being hunted not only by the revolutionaries, but by Rasputin as well!

"Go, go!" the boy shouted. He slammed the secret panel shut behind us.

Frozen in fear, we paused in the darkness and listened.

Heavy footsteps rang out as angry revolutionaries stormed into the room.

We heard a loud slap. "Where are they, boy?"

"They're not here," he replied.

 _Such bravery,_ I thought, _in a boy so young._

Then we heard a thumping noise and a sharp cry. It sounded as if the man had struck the poor boy with his rifle. I covered Anastasia's mouth with my hand to stifle her gasp. There was no way to help the boy, no time to thank him. I dragged the Princess away down the dark passage.

We escaped from the palace through the servants' entrance and fled into the frost darkness. We had not run far when a dazzling light lit up the night. I glanced over my shoulder.

The palace was in flames!

I had no idea where my son and the rest of his family had gone. I only knew I must save Anastasia.

We dashed toward the river, shivering in our thin nightgowns. The water had frozen over, and we slipped on the ice as we raced beneath the bridge. My old heart beat out the precious seconds as we ran.

Suddenly I heard Anastasia scream. I whirled around.

Rasputin had found us! He jumped from the bridge and landed hard on the ice. Cracks spread out like spiderwebs around his dark body as he grabbed Anastasia by the ankle.

She screamed again. "Let me go!"

Rasputin's laughter rumbled like midnight thunder. "You'll never escape me, child. NEVER!"

Then the ice beneath him broke with a terrifying _CRACK!_

I gasped in horror. Surely they would both drown!

But just as the river nearly swallowed them, Anastasia wrenched herself free with a shout. She scrambled across the ice and fell gasping upon the bank.

The child glanced back. Rasputin's furious red eyes seemed to hypnotize her. I feared she would rise and go to him. Then she pulled her eyes free, lurched to her feet, and ran.

"Bartok!" Rasputin screamed as he dug his finger-nails into the ice. Then the river's swift current sucked him down into the freezing waters.

The glowing reliquary skittered across the ice. Bartok, the white bat, swooped down and scooped it up, then disappeared into the dark night.

At last we made our way to the train station. We were freezing, frightened, and cared nothing for how foolish we must have looked running through the streets in our nightgowns and coats.

All around us hundreds of other people shoved to get on the train. I gripped Anastasia's hand with all my strength as I forced our way through the crowd. "Hurry, Anastasia," I panted.

The whistle blew. The train jerked and slowly began to chug down the track. It couldn't leave without us!

I reached up, begging for help. Passengers on the packed train grabbed my hands. My arms ached as they pulled me upward. I nearly wept with relief.

"Grandmama!"

I looked around. Anastasia! Where was she?

And then I saw her. She was still running alongside the train! Desperately I reached for her. "Hold on to my hand!"

Our fingertips touched. Then I felt her hand grip mine.

"Don't let go!" she cried.

I held on tightly as I gazed down into her frightened young face. But an old woman's arms are not very strong. The train began to chug faster and faster out of the station. "Help me!" I begged the others around me.

But then I felt her small hand slip from my grasp.

"Anastasia!" I screamed.

Horrified, I watched her stumble and fall. Her head struck the platform. And then she lay still.

" _Anastasia!_ "

I tried to jump from the fast-moving train, but strong hands held me back. I suppose they feared I would be killed if I jumped. Perhaps I might have, but all I wanted to do was help my granddaughter. I fought, but they would not let me go.

They did not know who I was, or who I had left behind.

I stared at my dear, granddaughter, Russia's youngest princess, lying helpless on the dirty ground.

And then a sea of people swirled around her, and I could see her no more.

So many lives were destroyed that night. What had always been was now gone forever. And my Anastasia, my beloved granddaughter…would I ever see her again?


	2. St Petersburg

Dear Diary,

Today I said good-bye to my friends at the orphanage, and hello to the new life that waits for me.

I must say I was happy to leave Comrade Phlegmenkoff behind. She doesn't understand how I feel at all. She always laughs at me when I talk about finding my family, but I know there must be somebody out there who cares for me.

I think the answer lies in Paris. All I have from my past is a necklace from someone who once loved me very much. It says "Together in Paris," so I know that's where I have to go. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get there!

In the meantime, I've found a new friend. Well, actually, I think he found me. He's a sweet little dog that I've decided to name Pooka.

It was his idea to go to St. Petersburg, and who am I to argue with a dog?

So here we are, trying to find a way to get to Paris. Taking the train would seem the obvious way, but since I don't have the right travelling papers, we can't even get on board.

I've been told that somebody named Dimitri might be able to help us, but I have no idea how we're going to find him! I only hope that Pooka can help me track him down.

Anya


	3. The Palace

Dear Diary,

There's no sign of Dimitri anywhere, but I think we might be getting closer.

Our search has led us to a beautiful old palace. I know it sounds silly, but I almost feel like a princess just being in this place. There is something very special here. It's a feeling I have, like a memory from a dream. I wonder what it was like for the family who lived here.

Anyway, if we're ever going to make it to Paris, I must get back to finding this Dimitri. If I can get some travelling papers from him, Pooka and I will be on our way.

Anya


	4. The Train

Dear Diary,

We had great success finding Dimitri, and we've finally made it on the train. We're on our way to Paris at last!

Dimitri thinks I might be the Princess Anastasia. I think he might be crazy.

But none of that matters at the moment, because now we have a new problem on our hands.

It seems that Dimitri and his friend Vladimir forgot one small detail when we got on board. It has something to do with our papers. I think they were written in the wrong color ink. So we've come up with a plan.

I hope it works, because it's the only plan we have! We're all scouring the train to find some red ink and a pen. And while we're at it, some blank passports would come in handy.

If we don't find them soon…well, let's just say we'd better find them soon!

Anya


	5. The Boat

Dear Diary,

Comrade Phlegmenkoff always told me to be grateful, and I am grateful for having gotten this far, believe me. But this Dimitri character is really starting to get on my nerves. Why does he have to be so bossy all the time? I think I'd like him much better if he were more like Pooka.

Thankfully, we made it off the train and now we're on the last part of our journey.

This time we're on a boat. Vladimir has been very nice to me. He makes me feel like a princess.

I guess to be fair, Dimitri is nice to me sometimes, too. He is helping me get to Paris after all.

Just imagine, Anya the orphan has become Anya the world traveler! But I hope our trip ends soon. I really am anxious to find my family. If I can get some rest, maybe I can dream about them.

Anya


	6. Paris

Dear Diary,

I have the most wonderful, exciting news! I am finally in Paris!

Dimitri has brought me to the Paris Opera House ballet to meet the Dowager Empress, Marie. I hope she can tell me if I really am her granddaughter.

Dimitri and Vladimir seem to be more certain than ever that I am Anastasia.

I'm afraid I've been a bit too had on Dimitri. He really does have my best interests at heart. But he's just told me that we might not get to meet Marie after all. It seems that the prima ballerina has lost her good luck slipper. If it can't be found, the show will be cancelled!

How she could have lost her slipper is beyond me, but everyone has gone off to look for it.

I'm sure she's just misplaced it. After all, how many places can a ballet slipper hide? It has to be around here somewhere.

You know, Pooka likes to chew on shoes. Maybe he can find it!

Anya


	7. Finale

Dear Diary,

The most wonderful thing in the whole wide world has happened. I can hardly believe it's true. But here I am, in Paris, and I've finally found my family. Now I know who I really am.

Dimitri was right. I am the Princess Anastasia!

I am so grateful to Dimitri and Vladimir. I never would have found my grandmother without them.

Of course, I couldn't have done it without Pooka's help, too. Everyone believed in me.

What an adventure we had just getting here! We survived train rides and boat rides…and all kinds of strange things. None of that seems important now, because now I have my family.

I was right about something else, too—that somebody loves me very much. And that somebody is my grandmother, Marie. She says I have my father's eyes and my mother's beauty, but most of all I think I have her spirit. Who would have dreamed that Anya the little orphan girl is really Anastasia, the princess?

Well, here I am, finally, with my family at last.

Together in Paris.

Anastasia


End file.
